


Insult

by UnderscoreMax



Series: Angstober [14]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU, DCU (Comics)
Genre: Angst, Bad Parents Jack and Janet Drake, Bruce Wayne is a Good Parent, Fluff, Gen, Light Angst, Trans Tim Drake, Transphobia, mentions of mild verbal abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-25
Updated: 2020-10-25
Packaged: 2021-03-08 21:48:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,092
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27193349
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UnderscoreMax/pseuds/UnderscoreMax
Summary: It wasn't really an insult, at least not at first. It was all they knew, it was what he had never told them. 'She's and 'her's and 'my daughter' and 'you look beautiful in that dress dear'.They weren't insults, Tim knew, but they hurt all the same.
Series: Angstober [14]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1946554
Comments: 11
Kudos: 162





	Insult

**Author's Note:**

> this got so out of hand oh my god
> 
> also, im alive? maybe? uploading a fic that was supposed to be up uh?? 11 days ago
> 
> oops
> 
> ❗hey ❗ theres a solid amount of homophobia/transphobia from tims parents, so that might be upsetting ❗ ok stay safe yall ❗

It wasn't really an insult, at least not at first. It was all they knew, it was what he had never told them. 'She's and 'her's and 'my daughter' and 'you look beautiful in that dress dear'.

They weren't insults, Tim knew, but they hurt all the same. 

Maybe later on they had changed into something much more forceful, controlling. Tim had taken his father's hair clippers and cut most of his hair. It felt nice to run his fingers through it, just barely long enough to do so. The nanny hated it. His parents hated it.

Tim wasn't to be dissuaded though, he kept it short. 

They still called him a girl, and it still made his chest twist in a weird way that he couldn't really understand. Maybe everyone felt that way? That seemed far more logical than there being something different about him.

.

Tim had started sneaking out to watch Batman and Robin. The two were amazing, he couldn't help but be awed by them as he traveled behind with a camera.

.

He had changed schools. Tim had skipped a grade and moved into high school, and started figuring things out fairly quickly. 

He had seen a poster for a GSA, it was brightly coloured and caught his attention enough to lead him into the room. A kind looking teacher smiled at him as he sat down, asking for a name and pronouns.

He paused, giving a slightly confused look. Why would she ask for pronouns, wouldn't it be something she just assumed? Apparently he had stopped for long enough that she just gave another warm smile and said "It's alright not to know"

.

.

Transgender.

Denoting or relating to a person whose sense of personal identity and gender does not correspond with their birth sex.

Oh.

.

.

Tim ducked into the GSA meeting again, this time a little more sure of himself. The same teacher was there, she gave a reassuring grin when Tim introduced himself.

"So, I think I'd rather use he/him, and the name 'Tim'"

Maybe it did make more sense now, he thought as his teachers called him 'him' and 'he' and 'a bright young man'.

.

.

He was changing schools again.

His parents found out.

They hated it.

More than they hated his hair. More than they hated his too tight sports bras. More than they hated his distaste for dresses and heels.

They took him out of that school, transferring him to a catholic school.

Tim could still hear the door close loudly with a "I better not hear anything about this- this- _foolishness_ again!"

He couldn't focus, his mind spinning around in panicked spirals. Tim had been so happy with his discovery, with his progress, he had almost been ready to tell his parents.

.

.

There were no brightly coloured papers in these halls. There were no welcoming teachers with kind smiles and reassuring shoulder pats. He knew that he wasn't supposed to be Tim here, not where his parents could see, not where anyone in his school could see.

"You are not my son, you are my _daughter_ , now act like it. I will not tolerate this anymore." 

It bounced around his head, reminding him constantly of his mistake of letting them know. Of letting anyone know.

Tim closed off quickly. Throwing himself back out onto the Gotham rooftops more and more often. Getting closer and closer to the vigilantes every night.

Robin's fighting style had changed a few months back. Turning from a far more acrobatic and graceful style to something that could only be taught from experience. It obviously wasn't the same person, it didn't take a genius to figure that out, but Tim had suspicions about it.

Dick Grayson had been an acrobat, Tim knew that much, he had met the older boy after a show. Dick Grayson had also been adopted by rich socialite Bruce Wayne.

Bruce Wayne had an air about him at every gala and party that Tim had ever been to. The man was far smarter than his outward appearance and demeanor would suggest. Bruce Wayne had also adopted a young boy off of crime alley, Jason Todd.

Jason Todd would've had a fighting style much like the new Robin from his years on the streets. Even if only for a short while, Jason couldn't have survived without learning how to fight almost anyone and win.

And three makes a pattern.

Tim was almost certain that Bruce Wayne was Batman, and both Dick and Jason were his Robins. He didn't know what to do with that information though, not until Robin died.

Batman changed. He got harsher, more violent, Tim sometimes had to turn fully away when he was watching. Batman needed a Robin, that much was certain, but he wasn't likely to accept one. Tim needed this to work.

.

.

He stood in front of the Wayne Manor, his hand coming down from the knocker. 

An older man opened the door, the same kind of kind smile spread across his features as Tim's teacher. For a moment Tim was sidetracked, but he quickly shook his head.

"I'm uh, Tamia Drake, I live a little ways away. I was wondering if I could speak with Mr. Wayne?" He asked. He needed a way to get to Bruce, and yeah, alright maybe the front door wasn't the best idea, but like hell Batman wouldn't have security and traps all around any other entrances. Or at least he thought so. It made sense to Tim at least.

"Ah, of course Ma'am," Tim winced, "Perhaps you would rather come inside." Alfred led him to a sitting room that could only be called small in comparison to the rest of the house. Truthfully, the room was still huge, even if it was dwarfed by how large the whole building was.

"Miss Drake?" Tim somehow winced and perked up at the same time, he wasn't quite sure either, but he had little time to think about it when Bruce Wayne was standing in front of him.

"I- Uh- You need a Robin."

"I'm sorry?"

"I know it's you, I know you're Batman, but that's- that's not really why I'm here, I've known for a while anyway, but the last Robin, something happened. You need a Robin."

.

.

By some odd stroke of fate Tim himself became Robin, and stepped into the costume he had always seen as a figure of hope. He had filled in that role, at least as well as he could.

.

.

He still knew, in the back of his mind that Bruce would find out. He was one of the world's greatest detectives, and there was no way that Tim could hide his bandages and shortness of breath and unease in movements that were just a bit too tight.

He couldn't, not forever. That Tim knew, but it wouldn't stop him from trying. Bruce needed a Robin, and even if Tim wasn't really a Wayne, or seen as a son, he had to try. He needed to be a Robin as much as Bruce needed one.

A lucky strike brought everything crumbling down a lot faster than Tim thought possible. He felt the blade tear through his armour, into his skin. That was a lot of blood already.

Fuck.

Ok, ok, he could deal with that. It hit the bottom of his ribcage, catching the lower bits of the bandages. Those were getting looser already. Not really great, not at all, but he could deal with it. 

It's not like he had much of a choice, anyway.

Bruce couldn't know. There was no way. Tim couldn't give this up for some stupid feelings, no matter how much it would hurt to ignore them. If not just for himself, he needed to do it for Batman. Until the next, better, Robin came, Tim couldn't just leave Batman alone.

He could deal with his own injuries. He was a big vigilante now. At least he thought so, up until dark spots danced in his vision, and blood started to seep through his gloves.

Oh.

Oh no.

That's not good.

Tim slumped against a wall, trying to at least stay standing. He could see the last criminal fall over. Bruce looked over to him, his chest puffing up in surprise as he took in the small form in front of him. Bruce quickly made his way to Tim, quiet but somehow still reassuring.

"Bruce," Tim started, he was definitely too lightheaded right now, feeling his head bob backwards for a moment, "I'm sorry."

Bruce looked up, surprised again, "For what, Tamia?"

Tim didn't know if he made a face or not, but it didn't seem all too important at the time. He shook his head, looking down to where Bruce's hand covered the wound. 

"Caught me off guard, I'm sorry, 'll do better next time"

Bruce's free hand landed on Tim's shoulder as Batman spoke. "Tamia, that is not your fault, I do not blame you for getting hurt. We just need to get you back to the manor."

Maybe it was a moment of bravery. Maybe it was the panic of far too much blood coming out of him. Tim wasn't sure what made him mumble out "M' name's Tim" but he wasn't really focused enough to care then and there.

And maybe Bruce didn't hear him. He didn't respond, but he was also quiet anyway, so it wasn't a guarantee.

It didn't matter much as Tim fell asleep in the batmobile.

.

.

Tim woke up to the calm sounds of the bat cave. The computer's fans whirring quietly. The water in the pipes that was just loud enough to give some white noise. A coffee pot that had just finished brewing, spluttering out the last bits of coffee.

First he noticed that he was in a bed, in the batcave. Then he noticed that he wasn't in his Robin suit.

A trill of panic shot up his spine as he realized that Alfred, or Bruce, had seen him binding. They'd know, they'd both know and Tim wouldn't be Robin. Tim would go home again, he'd leave the cave and walk out the manor for what was most likely the last time. And he had messed up so badly now.

Bruce came in a few moments after the coffee pot stopped making noise, holding a small cup of coffee in his hands. He looked almost nervous as he stepped into the room with Tim.

Had Tim said something yesterday?

He rummaged through his memories, a hazy idea of telling Bruce his real name stood out.

Oh, well, fuck. Had he really said that? Did Bruce know? Fuck. Tim had learned the hard way, he couldn't tell anyone again, it only complicated things. It only ended with yelling and slammed doors and venomous looks.

Somewhere in Tim's thoughts Bruce had gotten over to a chair next to the bed. He was already sitting by the time Tim looked up, holding a mug of tea out to the kid.

"I-"

"So we-"

They both started, Tim nodding to Bruce, not wanting to dig himself into an even bigger hole.

Bruce sighed, "We should talk, I'm not going to be mad about anything, you just need to be honest about it, alright?"

Something flashed in Tim's mind 'This Is A Trap', but he'd know if Tim was lying. Tim opted for the best option, another question.

"About what?"

A soft glare that was more annoyed with Tim's avoidance than anything else was cast his way.

"I'm sure you already know." Bruce looked down to his coffee, then back up, "Alfred and I, we both saw your bandages. Neither of us will be upset about any 'why's for you doing that, but you know that isn't safe around your chest."

Tim looked down, staring into his mug like it could give him the right things to say. 

"I- uhm- I'm sorry."

"Tamia." Bruce sounded frustrated, Tim stiffened just barely. "That's not it. I just want you to be safe, and I want you to tell me what's going on so I can help."

Alright, well, fuck. He couldn't lie, Bruce wouldn't fall for it, and he was running out of deflections already.

"I'm, uh, I'm trans" he mumbled, "I want to go by Tim."

Bruce was silent, Tim rushed out another apology.

"Tim, that's fine."

Uh.

Well.

That wasn't what he expected.

Tim looked up, brows scrunched in confusion. "You're not mad?"

Bruce made a face, just as confused, before giving a small smile. "Of course not."

Oh.


End file.
